You're a Flirt, I'm a Flirt, Let's Flirt

Had the curtains been drawn, Camille might have had the mind to find a riding crop, something leather and structured to move across his exposed skin, the small bite of a slap that would redden the skin some, would leave a tiny bruise that later she could try and tempt him into letting her darken with lips and teeth and tongue, but the girls would remain dressed until much later in the evening. And she was of the mind to buy them a private performance from their favored dancer, One of these days we're going to have to buy her for the night so I can feel her tongue between my legs as you ride her till dawn. The idea of sharing the woman between them excited her, but it was just words at this point -- the teasing.

While she may take lovers, specifically female, Enzo was a man she'd like between her legs at least once in her life. Having dressed him before she was already enamored of his physique, but it was the fact that he teased back as much as he took from her, her glass refilled as she felt the man ease in beside her on the couch, Of which neither of us seem to have enough of yet, she clinked her glass to his and then let the burn of whisky slide down her throat as her eyes slid over the legs of one of the dancers on stage now. I've been busy with some beaded number that's been requested as a rush order, and while I can trust the girls with most of the work, this neckline has to be perfect for this client, I know exactly who's eyes are going to be sliding over the fabric that drapes those contained breasts and a single bead out of place to distract from that creamy skin will be my head. Perfect breasts, really, with large always hard nipples, that or my store was too cold that day.

Camille stretched out as she laid back over his lap now that he was near -- that wine from the last time that seemed to bring every nerve alive, heightened and flushed with a single breath of air might be on the menu again tonight, she decided as she tried not to push her shoulder up into those wandering fingers. She wanted the image of them sharing the red headed dancer to linger in his head just a bit longer before she'd try to tempt him into bending her over the balcony, Are you? Jealous that is? Of someone paying me company, touching me? She let her free hand slide over the leather of her trousers, up towards the ties of her corset, where her fingers played for a few moments with the ties, tugging one just enough so that the looped ribbon strained hard not to give free, the tiniest bit of friction still keeping the last bit in place -- a hitched breath would have the entire knot, and her cleavage, freed some, as if the edge of the black satin didn't barely cover her modesty, the faintest trace of one dusky areola just barely visible over the edge of the garment. And if I had? Would you try and win my attentions back? Make me forget them? Finally take me to your bed to make me forget anyone else ever existed in the first place?

She looped the loosened tie of her corset over the fingers of his hand on the back of the couch, sipping her drink again before looking back to the stage, Of course not, if I can't have you making me scream your name till dawn, then I prefer having a woman under me. Now, let us turn the tables, my love, and tell me that you've not found a woman to sate your lust on, when I'm right here, ready and willing, practically begging to have you take me in full view of the club tonight. Oh, ...oh. I think I just discovered a new thing I'd like to try eventually my love, not sorry for putting that idea in your head.

@Enzo Pavus